Let's Rewind Back to the Time (Falling in Reverse)
by Reader's Inflammation
Summary: Person A is a time traveler who came traveled back in time many years to stop Person B from dying horribly.


Carlos had already figured out that time progressed even weirder in the Desert Otherworld than it does in Night Vale. He had already found a bunch of old oak doors in and around the lighthouse that led back to Night Vale (as old oak doors always do; it's the other ones, like birch and elm, that lead elsewhere), but they had been the wrong period in time. One had looked like it was in the 1800s or so, one in maybe a hundred years from now, and one looked like Night Vale (or America as a whole) hadn't even been found by the Spanish yet.

Of course, Carlos couldn't have that. He needed to get back to Night Vale at his point in time, where he could be reunited with Cecil again. Plus, he didn't even know what could happen if he messed with something in the past, and he did not want to find out, if _Back to the Future_ had taught him anything at all.

So here he was, standing at yet another old oak door, wondering what year it would be when he stepped through it.

But before he had a chance to open the door, his cell phone rang. Carlos excitedly pulled it out of his pocket. Cecil was the only one that ever called him nowadays. . . but this wasn't Cecil. It was the City Council's number. It had to be Dana.

"Hello?" Carlos answered the phone.

"Carlos?" It was Dana calling from the City Council.

"Dana?" Carlos was confused. "Why are you calling? I don't mean to be rude, but you never call. Is something wrong?"

"Um," Dana started. For once, she sounded like she was at a loss for words, which was weird. Dana was _never_ at a loss for words.

"What's happened?" Carlos asked, worry seeping into his voice.

"It's Cecil," Dana answered him, and Carlos's heart dropped into his stomach. "He was in an accident, and there was nothing that the hospital could do. I'm so sorry, Carlos. I wanted you to know before you called him."

But Carlos wasn't really listening. Instead he had moved the phone away from his mouth, covered it with his hand, and started quietly sobbing. He couldn't believe this. This can't be happening. Not to Cecil.

"Carlos," Dana called down the phone. "Are you okay?"

Carlos took a deep breath and moved the phone back in front of his mouth. "Yeah, I'm alright Dana. May I ask what happened?"

Dana paused again. A long, desperate pause before saying, "I don't think that that's a good idea," and then trailing off.

" _Please_ Dana," Carlos begged. "I love— _loved_ him."

"Well," Dana started. "He had gone over to the House That Doesn't Exist looking for a way to find you. He does it every single day before and after work. He told me that he didn't tell you because he didn't want you to worry."

Dana paused again, letting Carlos digest what she had told him, and then started again.

"Well, he was there yesterday evening, and we had a government-scheduled earthquake, and there was something wrong with the foundation of the house because it was not a big or long earthquake, but the house came down all the same, and he was still. . . ." She trailed off.

Carlos couldn't breath. It was because of _him_ that Cecil was. . .

No, he had to fix this. Slowly, he looked up at the old oak door. What if this was his chance. What if he could stop. . .

"I have to go, Dana!" Carlos said quickly, and hung up the phone before she could reply.

Carlos pocketed his cell phone, and took a deep breath, hoping that this door would work like the others, but hopefully before this happened right in front of him.

Slowly, he stepped through the door.

He found himself back inside the House That Doesn't Exist. _So far so good_ , thought Carlos. He found his way to the door, and stepped out into Night Vale. He spotted a newspaper on the porch, and found that the date was indeed before Cecil's accident. In fact, it was before Carlos had even come to Night Vale. But only by about six months, so Cecil had to be the Voice of Night Vale now.

He made his way through the city towards the radio station, keeping out of sight from the other residents of the small town. When he arrived, he just stared at the building. It was just as he remembered.

Before he could run inside and hug Cecil right in the middle of his show, Carlos stopped himself and pondered the repercussions. He looked around and started walking down the street a little further. He found himself at the entrance of the Ralphs grocery store, and he went inside. Luckily, Cecil's show was playing over at the Pharmacy counter, so he sat down on the bench right next to it, and hid his face behind a newspaper.

Cecil was on the Community Calendar. As Carlos listened, he laughed quietly at how excitable Cecil got sometimes. It was _so_ cute! That made him sad, though, thinking about his Cecil, right now not even knowing who he was.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a remark from the radio about the Boy Scouts and their Scoutmaster, Earl Harlan. And that's when Carlos remembered Earl and Cecil. And _that's_ when Carlos came up with a plan.

* * *

 _I hate this plan_ , Carlos told himself for the nth time. But it was the only way that he could possibly think of—and he had thought about it for a _while_. But no better plans had come. He couldn't very well go back into the Desert Otherworld and hope to find a sooner old oak door. What if there weren't anymore and he had doomed Cecil? No, it had to be this way, no matter how much Carlos hated it.

He made his way back to the radio station after Cecil's show, careful not to be seen by anyone. Cecil was talking to an intern that Carlos didn't know. They were both in the kitchen. Carlos knew that Cecil would have left his phone in the booth; he always does. He even forgets it there sometimes. Carlos smiled at the memory, and then made his way through the small station and into the recording booth.

Keeping close to the wall, Carlos quickly grabbed the cell phone sitting on the desk, unlocked it, and searched through Cecil's contacts until he came to Earl's number. Carlos quickly sent a text to the scoutmaster, looking wearily at the door.

After he sent it, and waited a moment for Earl to respond, keeping a close eye on the door to the booth. The text came in less than a minute after Carlos sent the text.

Earl had agreed to his proposition to meet Cecil at Tourniquet tomorrow night at 8 o'clock for a date.

Carlos quickly scribbled a note to Cecil on a Post-It note from the reporter's desk that said, _Cecil, Tourniquet tonight at 8. I have to talk to you._ – _Earl_

Carlos placed the note underneath Cecil's papers for tomorrow's news broadcast, and hoped that he would find it. He opened the phone again, and dialled Tourniquet's number to place a reservation for two under the name Palmer. He also told the maître d' to make sure that the table had candles and special wine. When she told him that everything was set, Carlos thanked the host and hung up the phone.

He looked to the door, placed the phone back where it had been, and bolted from the radio station before Cecil or an intern found him.

* * *

Carlos kept out of sight, even to the point of sleeping behind the Ralphs because he was _not_ going to risk going back into the House That Doesn't Exist. In the morning, he went back over to the Pharmacy counter bench, and sat down with another newspaper, and waited for Cecil's show to start.

When it did, Carlos waited patiently for Cecil to pick up his papers for the news.

"And now–" Cecil began before he cut himself off. "Listeners, there appears to have been a note placed underneath my papers for today. Let's see. . . It is from Scoutmaster Earl Harlan! Earl and I went to Night Vale High School together. Hm, the note says, dear listeners, that I should meet Earl at Tourniquet tonight at 8 because he has to talk to me. I wonder what he needs to tell me. . . ." Cecil trailed off.

Carlos hoped that he wouldn't think too much of it. Much to his luck, Cecil didn't, and continued the broadcast.

Now all Carlos had to do was wait.

* * *

It was quarter to 8, and Carlos was sweating nervously. This _had_ to work.

Earl Harlan had just arrived, dressed in a nice white button-down shirt and sportcoat. Carlos frowned despite himself, but then chided himself. _Now is not the time for jealousy_ , he told himself as he watched Earl speak with the maître d', and then she took him off, presumably to their seats.

Cecil entered the restaurant not two minutes later. Carlos watched him walk up to the podium spellbound by his boyfriend—or former boyfriend? future boyfriend? ex-future boyfriend? whatever—and the way that he pushed his glasses up his nose by the center bar connecting the two lenses. Carlos had always found that so cute.

Cecil, like Earl, spoke with the maître d', and she led him back to their table. Cecil left with the host, and left Carlos waiting yet again.

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night when Earl and Cecil left the restaurant. Carlos noticed that they were holding hands. Despite his many, _many_ feelings of jealousy, Carlos knew that he had done the right thing, and that Cecil would be happy. Even if it meant Cecil never knowing Carlos, and Carlos never seeing Cecil again. It was for the best. And, with that, Carlos left Night Vale for the last time.

* * *

Person A is a time traveler who came traveled back in time many years to stop Person B from dying horribly. Only for history to rewrite itself and by having Person A end up with Person C.


End file.
